


A Killer Canvas

by PurrV



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, angry medic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8143633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurrV/pseuds/PurrV
Summary: Sunstreaker wants to use Ratchet as his next canvas but Ratchet doesn't





	

"Sunny, this is either the worst idea you ever had or it could just be the greatest one yet," sniggered Sideswipe, chasing after his twin brother.

"It's not just an idea Sides," chuckled Sunstreaker, "it's an inspiration!"

"Don't those two words technically mean the same thing?" muttered Sideswipe.

"Hush now, we're nearly there," hissed Sunstreaker.

The twins cautiously approached the doorway that lead to the Ark's medbay. Peering inside they spotted Ratchet with his back to them, inspecting his tools and cleaning them. Given that he was gently humming a tube whilst he worked it was safe to assume that he was in a somewhat decent mood.

"So how are we doing this?" whispered Sideswipe.

"We're going to be professional and ask him," replied Sunstreaker.

"Lame," moaned Sideswipe, who had been hoping for a little excitement.

"It's not lame at all," retorted Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker entered first followed by his twin and approached the medic, taking a little caution as their reputation had earned them the privilege to become Ratchet's personal moving targets, even when they were behaving. Before they even walked 2ft in Ratchet glanced over his shoulder and spotted them. Instead of threatening them with his prized wrenches he merely sighed loudly and continued with his work.

"What do you two want?" huffed Ratchet.

The twins sighed in relief as it appeared Ratchet had no intention to attack them. Still when it came to Ratchet dropping your guard was a terrible idea. "Ratchet, dear Ratchet, you're looking positively radiant today," gloated Sunstreaker, trotting over to the medic's side.

"Whatever it is the answer is no," grumbled Ratchet.

"We haven't even told you yet," whined Sideswipe, popping up on the other side of the medic.

"I don't want to know," muttered Ratchet.

"So anyway," continued Sunstreaker, completely ignoring Ratchet's protests. "I have come up with this marvellous idea for an exquisite work of art."

"I said no," huffed Ratchet.

"It truly is a good idea Ratchet," pleaded Sideswipe, hugging one of Ratchet's sturdy arms.

"I highly doubt that," sneered the medic.

"Ok, so I want you to be the next piece of my new and exclusive project," proclaimed Sunstreaker, "I don't just offer this to anyone Ratchet, you should feel privileged." 

Ratchet actually paused his work and stared at Sunstreaker with a befuddled look. "Come again?"

Sunstreaker decided he needed to explain it a little more. "I want you to be my canvas Ratchet, I want to paint beautiful images all over your body and show you off to the world!"

"And I get to help," giggled Sideswipe.

The medic looked back and forth between the twins, as if he was trying to see if this was all part of some elaborate prank they were trying to pull on him. "So let me get this straight? You two want to paint on me? All over me? Then you expect me to parade around with your artwork all over my body whilst fighting 'Cons and fixing 'Bots!?"

"Exactly," chirped Sunstreaker, "so when can we begin?"

Ratchet's response was booting the pair of them out of his medbay, slamming the door shut after threatening them with a wrench.

"Well there goes that idea," huffed Sideswipe, pulling himself up from the ground and wiping his sore aft.

Sunstreaker wasn't about to give up. "No," he declared jumping up, "he will be my canvas! No matter what he says, Ratchet will bare my art!"

Sideswipe merely grinned wickedly. "I was hoping you'd say that."

\-------------------------

It was late as the twins crept through the Ark, sneaking their way through the accommodation sector of the buried ship. No one else was wandering around and those who were still awake were in their areas of work. Ratchet's room wasn't too far off from where they were and as they got closer and closer both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker did their best to keep quiet. Being quiet and sneaky was a little difficult when you're carrying ten cans of paint and a collection of brushes but the Twins managed due to their past experience.

Once inside Ratchet's room they spotted the medic recharging peacefully upon his berth, venting gently as he slumbered. It was rare to see him in such a vulnerable and relaxing position as the Twins had never dared to sneak into his room before, but Sunstreaker was determined to carry out his wish and Sideswipe was only too happy to help. Closing the door behind them they crept even closer.

"Ok Sideswipe," whispered Sunstreaker, "ready?"

"Of course," whispered Sideswipe.

And so they painted. All over Ratchet's white frame the twins painted whatever came to their minds. Sunstreaker painted landscapes of Earth and Cybertron along Ratchet's arms, using vibrant colours. Sideswipe painted explosions, epic battles and silly things all over Ratchet's legs, doing his best to hold in his giggles. As the hours passed Ratchet's white frame had been transformed into a wild mess of colours and images. He almost looked unrecognisable with all that paint all over him. The Twins were happy with how it had turned out.

"Ok once this side has dried, we'll roll him over," said Sunstreaker.

Sideswipe nodded. "It's quick drying paint so we shouldn't have to wait that lo-"

Before he could finish the lights suddenly switched on.

"Hey Ratchet! Sorry to bother you but I was testing this chemical formula and it kinda melted my hand, so I was hoping you'd help fix... it..." Wheeljack had burst into the room in the need of medical attention and when he saw what was going on he became as still as a statue.

The Twins could only stare back, hoping that Wheeljack's outburst wouldn't awaken the slumbering medic and it looked like Wheeljack was hoping for the same thing, but Ratchet had sensitive audios. With a groan Ratchet opened his optics and sat up, wiping his face and yawning.

"Wheeljack what have you done now?" he muttered with a yawn.

When Ratchet came back online it didn't take him long to notice something was off. He stared down at at his body, his white frame completely covered in bizarre images made with shocking colours of paint. Either side of him the Twins could only stare back. Wheeljack had already fled knowing too well what was coming next.

"I'M GOING TO TURN YOU TWO INTO SCRAP METAL AND MELT YOU DOWN FOR SPARE PARTS!"

Ratchet's screams echoed throughout the Ark, everyone who heard trembled in fear.

\-------------------------

It took some time but Ratchet had managed to calm down. He had dragged the Twins to the wash racks and ordered them to clean him down until all the paint was gone. He sat upon a stool, a wrench in his hand, whilst the Twins knelt either side of him, scrubbing off the paint as best they could. It was coming off but it was taking a lot of soap and water to get it off.

Sideswipe didn't want to get hit by the terrible wrench Ratchet held and he scrubbed the paint off as fast as he could. Sunstreaker wasn't happy that he was destroying his art and wasn't scrubbing as fast as his brother, but every time Ratchet shot him a glare he picked up the pace.

"Thanks to you two I have to explain to Prowl why I need to install a security device on my door," growled the Medic.

"We were just trying to make you stand out," muttered Sideswipe.

"You were going to look fabulous with my art decorating your body," whined Sunstreaker.

"Without my consent!?" barked Ratchet, his voice causing the two 'Bots to flinch.

They continued scrubbing and cleaning until some of Ratchet's original colour scheme was starting to come back, the paint they had scrubbed off left a trail of mixed colours as it swirled down the drain. They applied more soap and more warm water, going as fast as they could before the medic grew impatient.

"Why did you choose me?" huffed Ratchet. "Why not Bluestreak, or Jazz, or even Prowl? Why do you two always torture me with your immature gags."

Both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker paused and looked up at the medic. "We honestly wanted to cover you in superb artwork," insisted Sunstreaker.

"It totally had nothing to do with the fact you are one of the few 'Bots with a white framework," snorted Sideswipe, failing at keeping a straight face whilst saying that. 

Ratchet bopped Sideswipe on the head. "I'm this close in turning you into a toaster oven," hissed the medic.

Hours passed and finally Ratchet was back to his red and white colour scheme. The Twins offered to dry Ratchet with some fluffy towels to which Ratchet allowed. Once he was completely dry Ratchet peered into a mirror and inspected his whole body, making certain that the Twins hadn't missed a single spot.

"For once you two did something right," proclaimed Ratchet, still staring at himself.

Once again the Twins appeared either side of Ratchet, the medic able to see them through the mirror. "You still mad?" asked Sideswipe.

"Yes I am still mad," spat Ratchet.

Sunstreaker latched onto Ratchet's arm. "Don't be mad," he wailed.

Sideswipe latched onto the other one. "Pretty please don't be mad," he cried.

Ratchet could feel his arms strain as the Twins hung onto him, wailing and crying like little newly forged sparklings. It was always like this; they pulled a prank on him, he'd get mad and punish them and they'd beg him for his forgiveness. If it were anyone else they'd file a restraining order against the Twins, but Ratchet had grown used to to their antics. In fact he actually found he couldn't imagine a world without their constant interference. Maybe it was just his way of coping with them but Ratchet could not deny his life would be boring without them.

"Fine, I'm not mad anymore," huffed Ratchet, "just get off and leave me be!"

The Twins obeyed, jumping to their feet and ran off happy that the medic was no longer mad at them, and already they began to plot their next prank.


End file.
